F-F-Friend
by LegendOfZeldaFreak
Summary: "My friend will be very lonely in the afterlife. Would you like to keep him company? There's only one catch... You have to join him." One-shot. For lyokolife6's horror contest.


Your head whips around as you continue to sprint, trying to catch a glimpse of the madman. Twigs, thorns, and loose branches snap your face and leave biting cuts, but it's barely noticed through your fatigue and fear. But you can't stop running, running, running, because you know for a fact he's still behind you.

It seems as if the trees are spreading their long limbs towards you, wanting to halt you on your path towards help. The night sky seems to wrap you up, suffocating you so you can barely breathe. Every step is agonizing and feels like death...

But you keep running, his face flashing in your mind. That insane gleam in his eyes, that crooked, animalistic smile that stretched across his face. At his side lay a clean knife, limp in his hands. Arms, neck, and legs were twitching and jerking forward as if he didn't know how to walk as he lurched towards you.

Lost in thought, you don't see the branch sticking out of the ground until it's too late. Falling, falling, falling, unable to catch yourself. Your face slams hard against the dirt and your light brown hair does next to nothing to cushion the impact. In less than a second, you're up, scrambling to your feet, but it's much too late. He's here, and he's close. A foot away, still holding that long, deadly knife.

You're frozen with fear, rooted to the spot as he begins his slow walk towards you. The boy raises his knife to your throat.

"H-Here's your first friend. She l-l-looks really fun to play with!" are the last words you hear before he brings the weapon down across your neck.

* * *

You try calling for help, but it's as if your lips are tied shut. Risking a look back, you see that boy following you, somehow keeping a decent pace. Rain pours down around you, distorting your vision, chilling you to the bone. But that didn't matter because you had to get away, away, away.

Deep down in your gut, you know this has something to do with your friend. She was killed just last week around the same time. Did the little freak child have a thing against you group? What had you done to deserve this?

You regret not cutting your blue hair earlier when it was offered. The headband of sorts was doing nothing to keep the offending hair out of your eyes and plastering to your face. Your numb hands keep reaching up to brush it away but it keeps falling in line. Again, it falls back into your eyes, and when you brush it away, the demon child is standing in front of you.

You gasp and stagger back, not quite catching yourself fast enough as you fall on your back. The asphalt of the roads are hard and you land on your arm, and judging by the loud crack, you guess it's broken. Adrenaline thankfully keeps you from feeling the pain.

But you have bigger things to worry about- suddenly the child is right above you, crouching down. His arm drapes over your chest, and suddenly you can't get up, can't try to get away.

"Playmate n-n-number two, friend. I hope you're happy..."

And the knife comes down.

* * *

_Ding ding ding ding ding dong_...

This was the music box your mother gave to you before she died. Before grandma took you in. Before dad left and never came back. The song was melancholic, a dreary tune that sang of death and despair. But you listened to it anyway, for it reminded you of your dear dead mother.

As always, you lean back against your bedpost and close your eyes, drinking up the sound of the music.

_Ding ding ding ding ding dong_...

A sound slightly louder comes from your closet, slightly like a person rapping their knuckles on wood. Curious and a touch frightened, you stand up and inch towards the closed door. You call out and ask if anyone's there. No one answers, as expected, but you push open the door anyway. Fortunately, no one is standing in the closet. Then you hear it-

_Tip tip tap_.

You whirl around. It sounds as if water was dripping, but that's not possible. You don't have any water in your room.

_Ding ding ding ding ding dong_...

You stifle a screech as you seem crimson liquid dripping from your ceiling to the floor, staining the white color. And that blasted creep song is still playing, scaring the wits out of you. You consider crying out for your sister or grandmother but then remember.

You're home alone.

_Ding ding ding ding ding dong_...

You're outside the closet now, but you hear that horrible rapping noise again.

_Crrrrick, crrrrick, crrrrick, crrrrick_...

The sounds seem to intensify so you cover your sensitive pointy ears with your fist. You dart out your door, away from the sounds and towards your phone. But when you get to the top of the stairs you stop.

A kid your age is standing at the bottom. He's clearly not sane, judging by the look on his face. But what really worries you is the red-stained knife in his hand and the blood all over his hoodie and jeans. Then, as you stare, frozen to the spot, the child starts jerking up the stares, his flopping wildly. You finally come to your senses and run screaming the other way.

You don't know why you didn't think of it sooner; your grandma has a phone in her room. If you could get there, you could call 911. You'd maybe jump out the window in her room- there was a tree right next to it, and you could climb down. But the hallway seems to grow impossibly long, and each second you run feels like hours. The thump, thump, thump of the kid behind you following you is growing even louder until it's all you can hear. And suddenly the hallway twists and you just get so very, very dizzy...

Your face finds itself right up against the shag carpet. The footsteps have stopped, but now all you can hear is the horrifying melody of your music box. It's song is reverberating through your skull, making you wince. You barely notice as the boy appears above you, his blue eyes fixed on your pain-streaked face. He falls to his knees and limply puts the knife on your throat. The song get's louder, if that was even possible.

"Th-third boy... He isn't v-very good at hide and seek, b-b-but I hope you like him..."

_Ding ding ding ding ding dong_...

* * *

You hold the flowers to your face, breathing in the wonderful smell of lilacs. Your wonderful boyfriend bought them for you. So thoughtful, so nice! You were lucky.

Tucking a blonde strand of hair behind your ear, you walk down the sidewalk. You didn't have a car yet, as you were only fifteen, so you had to walk home. A lecture from your parents was inevitable, but the date with your boyfriend was worth it. It was a shame he wasn't able to bring you home, but you understood why he didn't have the time. His twin brother was in the hospital in a coma, and he had just woken up. You had been happy and shooed him away to go see his sibling.

The night was silent around you, but it was a comfortable silence. You loved the quiet; it helped you relax. Your shoulders slumped slightly, you look up to see the old sign for the park. You smiled slightly, your blue eyes scanning the rickety swing-sets and slides. You loved this place; you had many great childhood memories taking place here.

Lost in nostalgia, you decided a few minutes walking through the park wouldn't hurt. Sure, it was nighttime, but nothing ever happened to you.

You trace one pale, delicate finger along a rusty monkey bar. It scratched it and a small dot of blood forms. You wince a smidgen and look up. Suddenly the pain in your finger doesn't seem important.

A kid is sitting down with his knees against his chest, rocking back and forth. You can't see his face because it's smashed up against his legs. You ask if he needs help, where's his parents, your motherly instincts taking over. Blonde hair flies in front of your eyes, and you push it back against your ears annoyed.

"You're p-p-pretty..."

A whisper barely spoken, but you catch it. You're flattered, but wonder how the child could see you with his head down like that. And then he's gone, as if he was never there. You spin around, confused, and wonder if you were just really tired. But then he reappears right in front of you, less than a foot away.

"Fourth girl... She'll m-m-make a good friend..."

And you try not to scream as he slits your throat.

* * *

You set the blonde girl's head on the ground, right next to the other three crowns. The dirt of your friend's freshly dug grave is starting to grow grass. That worries you. Is your friend bored? Will he hate you for delaying his meeting with his new friends?

But that was insane. Your friend was very nice, so very, very nice. He thought each gift you got him was extraordinary, and acted like he had struck gold. He would love this gift no matter how late it was.

You sit like that for a while, admiring your work. Dried blood coated the faces of your new friends, and you doubted your new friends would very much like having blood on their faces for the rest of their afterlife! You cackle and cut the skin off that had blood on it with your knife. Oblivious to the fact that that caused more destruction, you picture your old friend in your mind. Then you get to thinking.

Sure, your old friend would love his new friends, but what about you? It would probably sadden him deeply to not be able to spend his afterlife with you. But there was no helping that. Unless...

"I can't wait t-to see you in the afterlife, Ness!"

And with that Lucas beheaded himself.

* * *

**AN: I thought I might be good at horror**

**...**

**I'm not, if you can't tell. **

**By the way, the "ding ding ding ding ding dong" thing was the music box. I didn't know what else to put. Oh, and if you can't figure out who got killed or something, it was (In order) Zelda, Ike, Toon, Peach, and then Lucas at the end. **

**Lucas was a bit insane because his friend Ness died, but then came to the conclusion that his friend would be lonely in the afterlife. So he killed a bunch of people in hopes that he would have buddies to play with. **

**Again, he was insane.**

**To TLTLI: ****Thank you! I'll be sure to try and fix the tenses later; I can see what you mean just by skimming through it. As for the not explaining thing in the author's note, I'm not going to fix it on this story just because that'd be changing the entire lower part, but I'll make a mental note to not do that again. If you have an account, I'd really like to talk with you. **

**Again, thank you. I really like constructive criticism, but no one seems to want to give ANY to me. **


End file.
